


Over Easy

by TehChou



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehChou/pseuds/TehChou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik share a morning together. Written for http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/2439.html?thread=2972039#t2972039</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over Easy

“Good morning, Charles.” Erik leans against the door jam at the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest.

Charles turns his head to look at him, mouth hanging open on an answer, but instead he just freezes and the edges of his cheeks soak deliciously into pink.

“Erik,” he says, eyes flicking down to where he's decidedly not wearing any pants. Or shirt, for that matter. Abruptly he turns away, probably to hide the hint of laughter Erik can see just beginning to curl his lips. “I'm trying to cook breakfast here,” he protests and Erik just unfolds his arms, stalks forward and slides his hand over Charles', slotting their bodies together.

“You were burning the eggs, anyways,” he says, biting the shell of his ear. Charles sighs, but obediently stills.

“Well how am I supposed to learn if you keep interrupting me,” he muses and Erik snorts, pressing into him a little more insistently and reaching over his shoulder to the thumb the dial. It clicks off with an obliging snap and Erik snakes that hand around Charles' waist, sliding under his apron and the shirt he's wearing to stroke at his belly.

The slacks Charles is wearing unfurl below where he's rubbing circles, slide down his thighs and hit the floor with a soft rustle. Charles arches up into him, turns his head so they meet each others lips in a messy kiss, half across Erik's cheek. It's sweet and slow and the dawn filters through the curtains warming his back.

The exodus of his underwear provides Erik with ample opportunity to taste the heat of Charles' backside with the meat of his palm. The tie of the apron dips just into the crack of his ass and Erik slides a finger up and under where the fabric brushes skin. Charles sighs into their kiss where they're still making out lips working easily against each other, slow and sweet.

He gives Charles' hand one last squeeze where it's resting against the stove and lets go. The tin of cooking oil comes into his hand, the tab slotting out of place with a tweak of his mind and then he's dipping the fingers teasing Charles' ass into a stream of the stuff. The excess slides deliciously down the plane of his lower back, dipping and winding where it flares out into the curve of his backside. Charles squirms against him, obviously uncomfortable with the tickling liquid but Erik just sets the tin down and raises his clean hand to tweak his nipple until Charles goes slack and compliant into the weight of Erik's body once more.

Erik's slick fingers circle the flesh they were just caressing, slides deep between the cheeks of his ass until he's pressing, pressing in. Charles makes a little noise, hips bucking and then settling into an easy rhythm that makes Erik's job all the simpler and silky smooth.

Eventually, he can't get much readier and Erik has to pull out, reluctantly, fingers tingling with the after memory of Charles heated flesh.

“Erik,” Charles sighs, breaking the kiss. “Please,” and Erik buries his face in the dip where his shoulder and neck meet, tasting salt and Charles.

“How can I resist,” he rumbles and replaces his fingers with his slicked cock. Charles arches back, fingers spread wide, hands grasping the counter and cries out. It's a reedy, breathless thing that floats on the air like the dust motes dancing on the sun rays. Erik rocks into him, their bodies swaying with each roll of his hips. It's effortless, Charles clinging to him, around him, pressed up against him. Erik catches the hand that's gone white-knuckled on the counter top, strokes along the veins and feeling the thump of his pulse under his skin. It's a powerful thing, having such visceral proof that Charles is alive and breathing beneath him, chest rising and falling in time to the snap of his hips. It settles like an ache in his chest, making it at once hard to breath as his rhythm speeds up and the noises Charles is making increase in frequency. Charles' head dangles between his shoulder blades, those spots of color high on his cheeks standing out starkly against his white skin.

Their fingers tangle together as Erik comes, rocking through his orgasm. His hips stutter, determined until Charles is coming as well with a harsh cry, splashing the oven door.

They stand laced together like that, panting until with a low chuckle Erik draws away enough to swipe a towel from the counter.

“My dear Charles, making a mess like that, I didn't know you had it in you” he says wryly and Charles snorts, pulling away with glittering amusement in his blue eyes and takes the towel from him.

“Well, I was never very good at eggs, anyways,” he says, mopping up the evidence. He slides his clothing back on and unties his apron. Erik goes to the fridge to get more eggs and when he comes back Charles slides around him, pulling the apron up and circling him with it, cinching it tight above his ass.

“Do try not to scandalize the children please,” Charles says brightly and smacks him right below where he tied it.

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody ever lets Charles eggs. 8C


End file.
